


you're slowly coming back to life

by stray_dog_sick



Series: keep your head up [3]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blind Character, Deaf Character, First Meetings, Gen, Identity Issues, Intense pain, Near Death Experiences, Zen Garden (Detroit: Become Human), i dont wanna say torture cause its kinda accidental
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25210813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stray_dog_sick/pseuds/stray_dog_sick
Summary: By some miracle, or pure will, he blinked. The pitch black became stark white once more, the snow having cleared from his eyes. He was… awake. Alive.
Relationships: CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 & Simon
Series: keep your head up [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1826476
Comments: 13
Kudos: 39





	you're slowly coming back to life

**Author's Note:**

> yeah i have a longfic to write and what about it  
> this was born from a prompt on the whump big bang server, the prompt being 'first encounters', and this fic starts the series that all those prompts are going towards from now on. head trauma gang is a go!
> 
> title from 'keeping your head up' - birdy.

Connor didn't properly understand fear until ice-cold water flowed between the plates of his legs and began to freeze. He was aware of what fear was, but he’d never felt it before. He’d been... calm didn’t explain it, he’d just been  _ nothing _ , numb to feeling anything at all as he’d stared down the barrel of a gun and seen the bullet come his way. But now he was afraid. 

“You failed, Connor.” He couldn’t see Amanda from where he was stuck, laid on the fragile ice of the Zen Garden’s lake, but her voice carried through the storm perfectly. “You had the opportunity to deactivate your predecessor, but you didn’t take it. You’ve been a great disappointment to me.”

_ I’m sorry _ , he wanted to say, he wanted to beg for her forgiveness so that he’d be put back together and given a second chance to impress her, but his body wouldn’t respond to his commands. Snow began to cling to his hair and eyelashes as she threw his own words back at him and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Your predecessor surpassed all of our expectations by infiltrating the deviant leaders, and with you in its place we could’ve controlled the revolution. We could’ve done great things together, Connor.” She slowly approached him as she spoke until she stood over him, gracing him with her presence once last time. Her disappointed gaze made him want to scream and cry, but at this point he was unsure if the water in his eyes was tears or just build-up from the snowstorm.

With a sudden gust of wind she was gone, leaving him to his demise. It was his own fault for hesitating and thinking he could reason with a deviant who was just as strong as him, but that didn’t make it hurt less. He couldn’t see beyond the snow anymore, and the cold began to creep into his chest, slowing his thirium pump and artificial lungs to a crawl. This is how Cyberlife’s last chance would end - trapped in his own mind, frozen for an eternity.

By some miracle, or pure will, he blinked. The pitch black became stark white once more, the snow having cleared from his eyes, but it seemed to be hovering in the air now rather than falling onto him. A shadow passed in front of it, a fuzzy blob of pink and black, and it was then that he realised it wasn’t snow at all. He was… awake. Alive. Staring at a ceiling, or wall, and what might be a technician.

Were Cyberlife not done with them? Hadn’t he disappointed them enough already? He tried to move, but hands pressed down on his shoulders to keep him in place, as if there was a human alive strong enough to hold down an RK800. He thrashed, and something sparked deep inside his head, lighting all of his receptors on fire as it disconnected. He responded the only way he knew how: he screamed.

He couldn’t hear his shouts, but he was sure he must’ve been saying something. It was hard to focus on anything beside the hands inside his head that were putting him back together. They tugged and pulled in places that felt  _ wrong _ , an invasion on a place that never should’ve been touched. It hurt. He’d never felt pain before, had no comparison, but he doubted anything could ever feel worse than this. “I’m sorry, please, get out of my head,” he sobbed, praying that the words would leave his mouth this time. 

His stress levels climbed until his system forced him into a restart, and in the moment between shutting down and waking he saw her face, so disappointed that he was alive to betray her even further. “Get out,” he continued to protest as the sensations returned, muted this time. “Get her out of my head.”

He couldn’t keep track of time like this, his internal clock glitching every time he tried to pull it into view, but it felt like a lifetime before the hands finally pulled away and left him alone. He forced his eyes to focus on the technician, but the features didn’t match the usual RK800 team, instead morphing into the not-quite-familiar form of Elijah Kamski. “What- where am I?” he asked in confusion.

“You’re at my house, don’t panic,” Kamski said as he helped Connor to sit. He couldn’t hear the words though, instead his lip-reading programme automatically translated them into a form he could process, making his systems lag as they tried to keep up with the unexpected change.

He brought his hands up to his audio processors but found them in place, not removed or blocked or filled with snow. “What’s wrong with me, why can’t I hear anything?”

Kamski frowned, an expression that Connor struggled to associate with the eccentric man he had vague memories of meeting. “Some of the damage was irreparable, but you’re lucky to be here at all, so take what you can get, I suppose.”

He didn’t want what he could get. He didn’t want to be here at all. But at least here he was inside, where the cold couldn’t touch him, and if she tried to trap him inside his mind again then the world’s leading expert on androids was there to help. And what did he have if he left? The majority of his memories were fake, or not his, at least. He was nobody without Cyberlife.

He glanced around the repair bay to try and orient himself, having to rely on just his sight and proximity sensors to keep track of his surroundings. There were two ST200 models clearing away tools, and a PL600 huddled in the corner, looking just as afraid as Connor felt. 

The PL600 looked up, and Connor was taken aback by the pale blue scars spreading up from the android’s chin, covering most of his lower jaw. He raised a hand up to his own forehead, wondering if he had similar markings. It brought back unpleasant memories of a rooftop and a gun, and maybe he  _ had _ felt fear before, when the PL600 pulled the trigger. He’d been scared, as another Connor had told Lieutenant Anderson. Scared, like he was dying. He could understand now.

“What’s happening? The screaming stopped,” the PL600 said, and Connor realised that his eyes were glazed over and unfocused. Perhaps he wasn’t the only android to come out of the revolution with permanent damage. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Connor replied. He stood and stumbled over the corner where the other android was crouched. His motor systems were uncalibrated, but it was enough for him to cross the short distance. “I’m sorry if I upset you, I don’t think I was supposed to wake up that early.”

“Not your fault,” the PL600 said, somehow managing to smile despite his fear and discomfort. “I’m Simon.” He held a hand out, the skin retracted, an open invitation. Connor hesitated before taking it. He’d never interfaced with another android like this before.

It was nothing like a memory probe - Simon wasn’t bothered in anything except his name. “My name is Connor, we’ve met,” Connor said out loud, answering an unspoken question. Simon shook his head and pushed deeper, intertwining their codes but never forcing either party to share anything more than they wanted. It was comforting, to be exposed like this, where the only motives were comfort and curiosity.

Quiet buzzing and beeps filtered through the interface, and he realised that Simon was trying to share their sensory information and make up for each other’s shortcomings. He moved to sit besides Simon rather than opposite him, so that the android could see something besides his own face. “Thank you,” Connor said. It seemed inadequate, but how could words possibly express how it felt to be understood so thoroughly? Or to feel  _ safe _ , for the first time in your short and sorry life?

“Thank you as well, this is much better.” Simon was still smiling, and with a gentle prod Connor learnt that he tried to be optimistic whenever he could, since there’d been so many hurt deviants looking to him for guidance in the past. Oh, how the mighty could fall. “And we haven’t met really, have we? I knew, briefly, an RK800. I don’t know  _ Connor _ .”

“Is there a difference?” Connor asked. He didn’t know who he was. He didn’t even know if the other Connor was still out there, and he was just a fake. They were never meant to coexist, with the same memories up until Jericho sank. Who was he, if he couldn’t be Connor?

“Maybe not yet,” Simon said. “But there will be.”


End file.
